The Devil
by scribbler567
Summary: Minerva receives a visit from the Headmaster one night. One shot set during Deathly Hallows sometime.


A sharp knock came on Minerva's chamber door. If it had been a different year, when Hogwarts was a different school, under a different lead, she wouldn't have been as surprised as she was at the disruptive sound. If indeed it had been a different time, then Minerva would have expected to open her door to a smiling Albus, he, prepared for their weekly nights of chess. He would have entered in his pajamas, she already clad in her night gown, and together they would have passed the night in a rousing round of their favorite game followed by a bottle of fire whisky. And, if it had indeed been one of those nights, Albus would have had a twinkle in his eye, and Minerva would be wearing one of her rare grins, taking full enjoyment in the company of her lover. And then, as the stars slowly faded away into the black sky outside her window, they would have, if it had been one of those nights where both took in more than their share of alcohol, the Headmaster and his Deputy would have fallen asleep side by side beneath the darkness.

But, those times and those days that she so yearned to bring back were gone. Albus was dead, murdered in cold blood by Severus Snape, a tragic flaw in the old wizard's plan for the 'greater good'. There would be no more late nights, no more laughter as they drank a little more than they should have, and no more memories to make. No, good things always came to an end, and it was time for war, and Minerva had seen enough of war to know that it most certainly wouldn't endure the sharing of small moments with friends.

A single hand shook as her fingers gripped to the door know, creating small, but permanent nicks into the wood. Since Albus's passing she hadn't had any visitors, not Poppy, nor Filius, nobody. No matter great of a façade she was able to put up, deep down the thought of revealing one of the Carrows frightened her. Slowly and cautiously she opened her door, finding the newly appointed Headmaster stood there, wearing the expression of a Death Eater. Yet, through all her hatred and all her anger, Minerva saw, even if she'd never admit to it, for a split second, the young, shy and desperate Severus she had met when he was an eleven year old boy. Of course that child was gone, corrupted by a choice he had made in full awareness of the immorality that could come with his lifestyle. For years Minerva had been living, under the influence of Albus's naivety, believing that Severus had reclaimed himself. But, she had been wrong, Albus had been wrong, and in turn a life had been lost.

Minerva was the first to speak, her voice clipped with irritation which only masked the pain lying beneath. When she looked at him, the usually stern Potions Master was staring at the floor, obviously avoiding looking her in the eye. _Coward_, she thought. "Headmaster, is there something I can assist you with? Otherwise I would prefer to return to my chambers."

Wringing his hands, Snape raised his head, revealing the face of Albus's killer and the biggest traitor the school had known. "I'm sorry to disturb your evening Professor, however I have information I feel will concern you dearly. Though it may not pertain to the current moment, I assure you that as this war takes its course, you may find yourself heeding what I intend to communicate to you."

And yet, despite everything that he had done, it was all Severus Snape: the way he spoke, his clear annunciations, small pauses between the words he used, and the way he used only the exact phrases to make his point limpid. In one sense, he hadn't changed.

But, alongside the parts that were Snape, there was something else in his eyes. To Minerva, his eyes had always seemed a stone black, but that night she saw that they swelled with unrevealed emotions. If one ignored the way he carried himself and looked only into his eyes, then perhaps he wouldn't have come across as a man worthy of so much hatred. That of course was not the manner in which Minerva viewed him. In her eyes he was a cold blooded criminal.

"What is it that you wish to tell me," she asked coldly.

Snape made no movements when he spoke again. "May I come in?"

Appalled at the idea of him entering her private rooms, the same rooms in which his victims had once spent his nights, she reluctantly stepped aside to permit his entry. As he walked inside Snape didn't look around her rooms which didn't surprise her much for he had seen them a number of times in the past.

If she once more allowed herself to think of the days of the past, an action she couldn't depict as right or wrong, Minerva would know that Severus had indeed been inside her rooms a few times, but not as her lover as Albus had been, but a colleague, and possibly once in their lives, a friend. It had occurred only a handful of times, but there had in fact been days where the heads of rivaling houses had put aside their differences and shared a cup of tea over light conversation. They had talked of little things: Quidditch, star students, troubling students, and topics related solely to school. However, Minerva had never dreaded those afternoon cups of tea, in fact, at the time she had rather enjoyed his company.

Snape didn't ask to take a seat, nor did she offer him one. Once she had shut the door, Minerva had leaned against the wooden frame across from a man she held no less than pure animosity towards. "Whatever it is that you wish to discuss, I suggest that you tell me before I send you away."

The wizard took a step towards her, no emotion of any sort present on his face except his usual scowl which had deepened at her words. "I'm afraid that you have forgotten who is in charge at this school now, Professor McGonagall. I am the Headmaster here, and if I wish to remain in your rooms, then I will do as I see fit. You wouldn't want another run in with Amycus Carrow, would you?"

Minerva lifted her hand to the gash running across her cheek. It burned as she stroked it, but not just from the physical pain, from the emotional distress brought alongside the painful cut. Days before Minerva had insulted Amycus Carrow during breakfast and in turn the Death Eater had taken a knife from the table and scratched it down the side of her cheek. If it hadn't been for her quick reflexes with her wand, Minerva would have left with much more than a scar. Snape had made no move to help, and he had given clear instructions to the rest of the staff not to provide any aid to her.

"You headmaster," she scuffed, laughing bitterly as she brought her hand to rest in a fist by her side. "You'll never be the true Headmaster. No matter what everyone here will always remain loyal to Albus Dumbledore."

Before she had barely finished, Snape had slammed her thin frame against the back of the door, pinning her down by both of her shoulders. The blow from his shove had pricked tears in her eyes for a split second from the pain. She glared at him, his dead face just inches from her own, his hot breath sending chills down her spin as short bursts of it hit her neck. "Albus Dumbledore is dead, you report to me now." Minerva fought violently against his hold, but he didn't appear phased by her. Her struggling only made things worse, for her gripped harder to her shoulders. "You report to me," he repeated, this time in the bitterest tone she had ever heard. The small statement had made her blood run cold, but she refused to show his effect on her.

Over the years, having already lived through one wizarding war, the witch had become quite skilled in burying her emotions even when she was most frightened. Being the Head of Gryffindor had taught her that bravery, above all other attributes one could wish to have, intimidated an opposing force the most. If that enemy was convinced that you were not scared or moved by them, no matter their size, ability or power, then in some cases, you were able to turn the struggle in favor for yourself.

On the other hand, Minerva was a realistic woman. She knew there were always wizards who would be more powerful than herself and be unmoved by her idealistic Gryffindor qualities. Though there were still indeed men at the lower ranks among the enemy who would be frightened if their opponent did not find them frightening. It took sharp skills to determine one type of man from another; skills even at her ripe age, Minerva had not begun to master. As it came onto her, Severus Snape did not, contrary to what she had immediately believed, seem to care at all for her sharp tongue, nor did he seem the least bit intimidated by it. She silently cursed herself.

Nevertheless, Minerva didn't dare to tear her glare from his eyes. The two most powerful wizards in their world were up against one another, the cunning Slytherin holding his domination over the brave Gryffindor. "After all that Albus did for you," she finally hissed. "You repay him with death." Once more Minerva made a jerk in an attempt to free herself from his constraint, but he only threw her against the door again, this time the pain immensely worse.

"The Dark Lord told me that you would be a problem," he replied, lowering his voice. "And I insisted on keeping you alive, an act you should be very much grateful for. One slip Professor, one slip and you would find yourself dead before you can scream for help. But there are fates worse than death; things that will make death seem like a walk through Diagon Alley before the start of term." She cringed as he came closer to her face, less than an inch away. He ran his fingers, his dirty, murderous fingers, over the gash on her face, causing her to turn her head from the contact. Snape however slapped her opposite cheek, causing her to turn back to look at him once more, she, making her best attempt to hide her terror. "You'd be shocked just how many ways a Death Eater is taught to torture besides the Crucio curse. There's rape, beatings,"

"You're threatening me," she hissed, interrupting him. "You're threatening me you bastard." As Snape opened his mouth to speak once more, Minerva built up enough courage, enough anger, and enough fear to fight back, so with her third forceful shove, she broke free of him, running with the greatest speed she ever had to her bedroom.

As she fled from him, he remained behind, shouting at her as she escaped. "You're damn right I'm threatening you." Suddenly, mid-way of grabbing her wand from her nightstand, she froze, never having heard Severus Snape shout, at least not towards a person. He had always spoken in the same dull voice in all the years that she had known him, and so the change in his well contained demure startled her. "Don't you see that I have to?"

Making her way back into the front of her chambers, Minerva clutched her wand tightly in her fists. "Is that what traitors, what _cowards_ like you spend your leisure time doing? Learning how to control and manipulate others so that-"

"Stupefy!" Before she had a chance to fight back or even draw her wand, Minerva felt her feet rise off the floor, her wand drop, and herself being knocked into the front of her four poster bed in the adjoining room. From there what was left of her world went dark.

The very next thing Minerva was aware of was a vague shaking against her shoulders. Her entire body was trembling from pain, her back bent uncomfortably against the foot of her bed. She groaned aloud and suddenly the shaking became more desperate. "Minerva? Minerva?" Severus's voice was no longer monotone, and he had used her first name, an action he hadn't done since his reign as Headmaster. He sounded, as long as her hearing hadn't deceived her, shaken, as he certainly deserved to be. There was a slight quiver etched into her name when he spoke it, and for a moment she was taken back.

And then it all came back to her.

Minerva placed a weak arm beside her to help her stand, opening her eyes to see Severus on his knees beside her. A sudden hatred rushed through her upon seeing his eyes looking down at her, eyes that destroyed the other set of eyes that had once looked upon her in that very same bedroom. Not only that, but now Snape had used the spell that had two years before, ultimately led to her weakening and downfall in use at the school she had dedicated her life to.

She knew, as did everyone else, that she was not a young woman anymore, nor had she been during the attack. That night she was seventy seven years old, and not in what most would refer to as great physical condition. After her accident, Minerva had never been able to make a full recovery. After all, four stunning spells was a lot for a young person to survive, let alone a seventy five year old witch. It had taken a few weeks for her to be able to walk far distances without support, and even then there were the days where she barely made it to class on time. And now, two years after, she was still struggling to keep herself away from injury, namely stunning spells.

"Get out," she shouted weakly, battling an urge to completely break down from her fatigue, her pain, her longing for Albus to be there, her anger, her resentment, and everything else that had slowly built up over the years. "Just leave me be!" Minerva made an attempt to stand, gripping to her bed to keep herself steady, but when her hands slipped from their support she began to fall back down. If Severus hadn't reached out and grabbed her waist, then she wouldn't have remained standing.

His skillful fingers, deft from years of potion brewing, were wrapped around her weak body, gripping tightly, but with a more than noticeable tremble. She was in turn leaning against his back for support, angry at herself for needing help to stand, and especially from the Death Eater. Minerva, always the stubborn and proud Gryffindor, tore away from him, holding onto her bed to keep herself from collapsing on the floor from lack of physical strength. The spell he had just hit her with had been some of the last she knew her body could take, and she needed to be alone if she was going to collapse. Minerva didn't want anybody to see her defeated, and she certainly didn't want to give him the satisfaction of viewing it. "Get out of my bedroom," she exclaimed, this time with a bit more strength. She was hunched over the bed rail, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye.

A hand touched the small of her back, an action only ever performed on her by one man, an action that she only ever wanted done by that one man, even if he was dead. "I'm not leaving you here like this. I apologi-,"

"Get out," she screamed, the first tears spilling down her face. "I told you to get out, now get out or I swear to Merlin I'll hex you Severus Snape." Her body was wracking with hysterics as her barriers finally broke down. Sobs escaped her mouth, and she couldn't move her hands from their death grip on her bed to cover her mouth or else she would fall. Her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face and burned her cheeks as they fell.

Without a word, Snape wrapped his arms around her waist and pried her from the bed, and she had not the strength to fight back. She simply let him bring her down to sit on the floor, leaning against the foot of her bed for support. There had never been a moment where she had hated herself more. "Leave," she shouted once more, coughing and sobbing as she tried to make her words understood. Nevertheless the dark man held her still, sitting beside her on the floor as she let out years and years of sorrow. Minerva had never known she could cry so hysterically and so violently, and she was sure that despite his terrible personality, the Slytherin hadn't ever been so shocked, even if he wouldn't ever show it.

As she cried, Minerva pulled her knees to her chest, burying her head in them to keep one last strand of dignity, the rest having long gone. "You're nothing but a murderer," she exclaimed, still not bringing her head up, her voice muffled by her lips against her own robe covered knees. "And you killed him, you no good coward, you killed my best friend."

When he spoke again his teeth were clenched tightly, she was not able to see him, but she didn't have to, she could hear it by the way his words came out. "I had to."

Minerva finally raised her head, slightly composed, but still trembling terribly and soaked with the tears that continued to fall. "Oh yes, how could I forget? Your Dark Lord asked you to eliminate Albus Dumbledore so he could finally have the control he wants over all of us," she replied with nothing but venom in her voice. "How silly of me not to remember that filth you work for."

Snape stood from where they had been sitting, beginning to pace before her, and she wondered how he had had the nerve to burst into her rooms in the middle of the night, threaten her, and then stun her. When he finally spoke again, he had paused, looked at her, his expression blank once more. "I don't expect you to go down without a fight, no, that's not anything like a Gryffindor and after all you're Godric Gryffindor, am I right?" He sneered at her, his lips curling at the sides, making her return the sneer, but hers was wet by the freely flowing tears leaking from beneath her eyes. "And I don't expect you to ever like me, but I need you to listen to me Minerva." The last statement he had made had softened his sneer, and lowered his eyes so he was looking so closely at her, she had to hide a shudder from the way she felt him penetrating beneath her very skin. "Please, no matter what happens, just, just keep yourself safe." Minerva felt her entire body freeze, her heart stop beating, her chest stop heaving, and her tears stop falling. "He's powerful, and he's growing more and more powerful as each day passes. Don't worry about what others will think, what others are doing, get yourself out." Snape annunciated each word clearly and with a pause between each. "Death Eaters aren't intimidated by a woman who bleeds red and gold, they are going to kill you either way. They have no regard for human life." He turned away, as if to hide an expression, for his hands she could see covered his face when he looked away. She was speechless.

After a few moments he turned back around, extending a hand out to her. Minerva didn't know why, but she took it without a second thought. It didn't occur to her until later that night, but she had felt, at that moment at least, that he wasn't everything she thought he had been. He pulled her up to her feet, helping her back to her couch. She sat down on the cushions as he began for the door, still having not said a word. Just when he was about to leave she called his name, her voice full of strength once more. "Severus!" It was the first time she had used his first name in, well, in a long time.

The Headmaster turned to face her. "Yes?"

"Was that what you wanted to tell me? To keep myself safe," she asked. He simply nodded, closing the door behind him, and leaving Minerva alone once more.

Even the devil, she concluded later that night, was human. And that was enough.


End file.
